


the prize we sought is won

by Fandine



Series: The Foxhole Court [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 07:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10635486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandine/pseuds/Fandine
Summary: The first time Dan meets Allison, Dan’s too busy yelling at a vending machine to bother giving any effort into making a good impression.





	

Dan’s angry. No, she’s fucking  _pissed_ , but more than that, she’s sweaty and thirsty, this practice having drained more of her energy than usually. Her elbows are still throbbing in pain from when Seth tackled her into the wall.

“Hey, fair play,” he’d said, shrugging before he’d walked away, as if it was totally normal to hold the racquet straight in front of you when running towards someone, just the right position for it to dig into her stomach, right under the ribs, leaving her breathless and dizzy. She’d hit the wall hard, slid down to sit and hold her head between her knees, forcing herself not to puke.

Matt had run to her immediately, offering a hand up, but she’d only gritted her teeth and glared at him as she’d risen, locking her knees to keep from bending over in sudden pain. She’d walked away as a result of pure will, carefully putting the other foot in front of the other, until she was in the middle of the court again, as the offensive dealer, as was her right.

She’d ignored Renee’s attempts at catching her eye, and pointedly did not look to the side, where Wymack would have stood if he was there, stopping the spectacle before it even begun. But alas, Wymack wasn’t there, skipping practice to collect the new recruit, Reynolds.

“They take it as a challenge, you know,” Matt had told her after everything had gone down, helping her set back the equipment.

“What,” she’d said.

“You know.” Matt had swallowed and rubbed a hand at the side of his neck, a tick that shows he’s nervous. Dan’s eyes did not flicker to his neck, they absolutely  _did not_. Instead she’d stared right into his eyes as he had said, “The way you stand right up again. The way you take no bullshit. They want to see what breaks you down.”

 _Well_ , she thinks now, walking down the hallways the opposite directions of the showers, almost leaving scorched tracks in her trail.  _They can bet on this; I won’t break._

Usually Dan’s not the type to spend money on careless impulse, the way of life she’d lived so far not allowing her to do so, but life had also thought her that small awards was what made things bearable. She’s sweaty and aching all over, and what she needs right now is a sugar bomb. So she stops by the vending machine at the end of the hall, puts in every coin she finds in her pockets, and presses the button for a cold, sweet bottle of coke. She could already taste the drink on her tongue, the way it will bubble in her mouth, giving her the boost she needs.

The machine whirrs as it come’s alive. She sees the compartment holding the bottles opening through the glass, and then–-

The bottle gets stuck.

“ _Oh, fuck off_ ,” she yells and kicks the machine.

“Oh my god,” says a voice behind her. “What did the poor vending machine ever do to you?”

Dan turns and sees a goddamn  _model_. The voice belongs to a tall, darkskinned girl. She looks a little like Shalani, a girl from her old high school class who Cathy once compared to a Bollywood movie star, but that’s where the similarity ends. This girl--woman,no, _girl_ \--wears pink lipstick, colorful eye shadow and a blinding white smile.  _An honest-to-god tooth paste model,_  Dan’s mind supplies. Her hair is blonde, with dark, black roots showing, but it doesn’t seem like an accident at all, rather a planned detail, because everything about her seem put together, everything coordinated to give a certain image of casual beauty.

Dan’s suddenly aware of her rumpled helmet hair and her sweaty sports uniform, and she turns her back to the woman, partially because of embarrassment, but mostly because she’s annoyed and she  _would_   _like her damned coke right about now, thank you very much._  She bends down to the compartment and shoves her arm in, trying to grab the bottle or at least push it down.

“Okaaay,” the girl mutters behind her, but she doesn’t care, not right now, okay? She wants her drink.

After a few moments of this, it becomes apparent that this strategy won’t work. Dan straightens up, absolutely refusing to look at the model, because she can feel heat in her cheeks and behind her eyes. It’s been a shitty day, from having missed breakfast because she overslept, because she had read till early morning, to forgetting one of her due assignments at her dorm room, to this awful practice. Why did everything had to suck today?

The girl's not gone yet. Dan can hear her tapping her foot behind her, but she doesn't turn around until the girl says, almost nonchalant, “Hey, we could shake the vending machine?”

Dan looks at her, then at the vending machine, then back at her. She’s not sure how strong the model is, but hey, it’s worth a try, so she shrugs and says, "Fine by me."

It appears that the model packs some muscle underneath those fancy clothes because between them they manage to tilt the vending machine in a sharp angle--it’s a wonder that the whole thing doesn’t just tip over--but the bottle _is still stuck_.

“How is it possible?” Dan says and flings her arms to the air. “Just, why?”

The girl shrugs and says, “But hey, I could you just give you some money to get a new one. It’s like, what, a dollar?”

“Nope,” Dan says. “Na-ha, no, we’re not doing that. And I don’t accept money from strangers.”

The girl rolls her eyes, and Dan’s sure she would snap her gum at her if she was chewing any. She takes two strides closer, sticks her hand out and says, “Allison.”

“What,” Dan says flatly.

“My name,” the girl – Allison – says, waving her hand, “is Allison. Introductions, a little exchange of hand germs – come on, I refuse to believe this is the first time you’ve done this, captain.”

“Dan,” Dan says, taking her hand. Allison has a firm grip and she squeezes once before letting go, nodding as if she has just done something noteworthy and is actually checking it off in a list in her head.

“Dan, huh?” Allison says. “I'll remember that. Good to meet you. Now we’re not strangers anymore, right? We need to celebrate our new friendship right away. Let me buy you a coke.”

Dan rolls her eyes, playing along because this is clearly a joke, right? Right?

Allison doesn’t seem to be following the program though, and is honestly getting her wallet out, clearly intending to act on the offer. Dan grabs her hand to stop her.

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Dan says and steps in front of the vending machine. “Thank you, but no.”

“Why?” Allison says, actually sincerely confused, and Dan wants to laugh a little at it all – this, this ridiculous and frankly unbelievable situation. She'd only wanted something that would boost her, not give her a headache.

“Why?” Dan says. “Why should you? It’s just,” – she waves her hands – “the principle of things.”

Allison stares at her like she’s just said that she eats humans, but it’s so not weird. There’s principles to all things, even money. Especially money. Dan didn’t need to be told about them, can’t remember a time where she didn’t know them, because it’s one of those obvious things like how water is wet. Just because all the rich kids don’t seem to care to follow them, some of them actually had to.

“Okay,” Allison says, holding her hands up as if to tell her ‘you win’. “But I want a drink myself, okay?”

Dan stares at her, gauging her intentions, but Allison only smiles sugary back, and so Dan steps aside. As she watches, Allison pushes a button, the machine whirrs and the chosen compartment pushes out –-

allowing the other coke bottle to fall down –-

and the new coke bottle gets stuck.

Allison bends down to pick the fallen coke bottle and turns to Dan. Before she can say anything, Dan points towards the bottle in her hands and says, “Oh no. That one’s yours.”

“Oh, come on!” Allison says and _stomps_. It takes everything for Dan not to giggle in disbelief at the sight. “This one was totally yours.”

“Yeah, no,” Dan says, shaking her head to hide her smile. “It was never in my hands; so it’s yours.”

“If you don’t take is, I swear I will throw it in the trash.”

“Uh-huh,” Dan says, crossing her arms. “Right.”

“I don’t even like coke,” Allison says, scrunching her nose.

_What. The. Fuck._

“Why did you choose coke, then?” Dan says, and the situation is past unbelievable, honestly, what was wrong with this girl?

Allison freezes, her eyes jumping around. “Accident?” she says after a tense moment.

“Uh-huh,” Dan says with a deadpan. “Are you telling me or asking me?

Allison rolls her eyes and says, “Listen, I’m not kidding. I don’t like coke. I will just put it down here and leave. Don’t put it to waste and just take the damn thing.”

“Yeah, no,” Dan says and shrugs. “I don’t want coke anymore.”

“Oh my god,” Allison whispers. “Why are you so stubborn, oh my god, oh my god, just take the damn thing.”

“No.”

Allison flings her arms to the air, pivoting on one foot. She puts some new coins into the money-eating machine and pushes a new button before Dan can even react. This time the compartment over opens and pushes out a bottle—

dragging the other bottle underneath down with it—

ending with Allison holding up three bottles of drinks.

“See,” she says, pushing one of the cokes into Dan’s hands. “This one’s yours, the Fanta is mine, and, well,” she looks at the second coke, “we can give this to one of our other teammates. Hey, you!”

Dan turns around to see Renee standing outside the wardroom door, looking like a reindeer caught in headlights, her hand still around the doorknob. She looks around, as if she’s not sure Allison’s addressing her.

“Yeah, you!” Allison says, beckoning her closer. Renee throws Dan a questioning look as she passes her, but Dan can only shrug. _I’m not with her, don’t ask me._

“Here,” Allison says, pushing the coke in Renee’s hands. “For you.”

“Oh,” Renee says, “I, I couldn’t—“

Allison holds out her empty hand and Renee, more as a reflex than anything else, Dan figures, takes it and shakes it.

“I’m Allison,” Allison says.

“Renee,” Renee says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Now that we’re friends and blah, blah,” Allison says. “Take the damn coke, please.”

Renee hesitates only for a minute, before she shrugs, opens the bottle and takes a small sip.

“Bless you,” Allison says.

Renee sends her a small, amused smile through her eyelashes, and Dan can only stare at her with something like resignation tinged with hilarity. Because only seeing Renee actually _flirting_ could push this whole situation from weird to out of this earth, so _of course_ it would happen. “Excuse me if I’m wrong, but you’re Allison, as in Allison Reynolds, the new striker?”

_Bam, shift, click._

“What?” Dan says.

“Yeah,” Allison says at the same time.

They turn slowly to each other, and whatever Allison sees in Dan’s face makes her blink slowly and smile brilliantly.

 _But_ , Dan thinks helplessly, _tooth paste model?_

“Hi, captain,” Allison says and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from the poem O Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman, which, hmm... I promise there's no deeper, dark thought behind it other than that I suck at titles. But hey, this whole thing is ridiculous, so why not, eh?
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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